


Breathless

by Feralious



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Autoerotic Asphyxiation, BDSM, Dominant Masochism, Established Relationship, M/M, Masochism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-18 11:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1426303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feralious/pseuds/Feralious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles would've figured that thanks to their supernatural strength, werewolves would be on the obvious side of that power imbalance.</p>
<p>Turns out masochistic werewolves exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathless

“Are you – are you sure?”

Peter sighed in frustration, rolling his eyes at the younger man. “ _Yes_ , Stiles, I’m _sure_.” When he didn’t get an answer he continued, “Why are you being so hesitant anyway? What’s the _worst_ that could happen?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles said, fidgeting, not looking him in the eye. “You could – you could get hurt. I’ve never done this before, you know.”

Peter poked him in the chest, then moved his finger to his chin to tilt Stiles’ head so that he had no choice but to look at him. “Stiles,” he said, now pointing his finger towards himself. “ _Werewolf_. I can _deal_ with it.”

Stiles visibly gulped, earning him a grin from Peter.

“Come on, is it _really_ that scary?”

Stiles nodded. “What if I, like, don’t stop in time? What if you _die_?”

Peter frowned, still a little annoyed, but also with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Like you could kill me if you _tried_ ,” he said. “Didn’t work out too well last time.”

“You _did_ die,” Stiles muttered. “You could’ve _stayed_ dead.”

Peter pursed his lips. “You don’t mean that.”

“No,” Stiles sighed this time, “no I don’t. _Still_ ,” he stressed, “I don’t think I can do this Peter.”

“Ssh,” Peter told him, placing a hand on his cheek. Stiles looked a little indignant.

“Did you just _shush_ me?”

Peter didn’t answer, just smirked at him. He then let go of him and took hold of his hands, gently guiding them towards himself, placing them around his neck.

“I’m gonna help you, alright? I’m gonna show you exactly what to do.”

Stiles wet his lips, no longer arguing, but also still looking a little panicked.

“I’ll be _fine_ , Stiles.” Peter paused for a little while, looking into his eyes, before placing his fingers over Stiles’ and moving them just slightly. “You feel that?”

“What, what am I supposed to be feeling?” Stiles asked, eyes unsure but also a little curious now.

Peter shushed him again, and even though Stiles threw him a sarcastic look, he did shut up.

The silence lasted for a few seconds before Peter whispered, “My heartbeat.”

Stiles bit his lower lip as he noticed; could hear it now, too, as he felt the steady pulse beneath his fingers.

“Those are the carotid arteries,” Peter told him, never breaking eye contact. “All you have to do is gradually build pressure on them.”

Stiles didn’t answer, but did respond when Peter leaned in to kiss him, hands still wrapped around his neck.

“We’ll do it together the first time,” Peter reassured him, giving him a half-smirk, half-smile. “We can always stop if you really don’t want to do this, but don’t let it be for my sake.”

Stiles took in a deep, slightly shaky breath. “Okay. _Okay_. Just… as long as you tell me what to do.”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Excellent. Alright. Just focus on my pulse, okay? Slightly press your thumbs against my neck. Good,” he said, guiding Stiles’ fingers, pressing them against his skin.

“When do I stop?” Stiles asked, the edge of curiosity in his voice now stronger than before.

“You’ll know,” Peter said, “but I’ll help you. If I’m not letting go of you, you don’t need to let go of me. Understand?”

“Got it.” Stiles closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them the uncertainty in them had been replaced with a bold confidence, the sense of curiosity still growing.

Peter slowly increased the pressure on Stiles’ fingers, thus building the pressure onto his arteries. Stiles kept watching him, careful to watch for any changes in his expression, to get a feeling for the sensation. He’d never before been in this position, least of all with Peter, and it was a very strange, very exhilarating experience for him.

He blinked, suddenly noticing the dilating of Peter’s pupils, shortly after which the fingers holding his lost their grip on them. Stiles hastily removed his hands from his neck, eyes fixed on his throat, watching him take a few deep, controlled breaths.

“Very good, Stiles,” Peter told him, sounding just slightly breathless, the smile moving onto his face again. “See? That wasn’t bad at all, was it?”

Stiles shook his head, suddenly seemingly transfixed. “You okay?” he almost whispered, eyes wide and focused on Peter’s.

“Better than ever,” Peter murmured before leaning towards him and capturing his lips in a kiss again, this time placing his hands on Stiles’ thighs, pulling him a little closer. “Wanna try again?”

Stiles didn’t even stop to consider that perhaps he was nodding just a bit too eagerly – instead he wrapped his hands loosely around Peter’s neck again, this time finding the arteries without Peter’s help, noticing how his heart rate had picked up. His eyes were drawn to his heaving chest, and when they landed on Peter’s face again, his own heartbeat sped up – Peter’s eyes were closed, and Stiles knew it was in anticipation of what he was going to do to him.

The nerves and concern in his stomach had been replaced by something a lot more thrilling; something that was both arousing and making him feel giddy.

Despite the fact that Peter could stop him any time he wanted to – what with the supernatural werewolf powers and all – and the fact that, according to him, this was really not dangerous – he _was_ putting Stiles in a position of undeniable control. He _trusted_ Stiles with this, with what could essentially be his _life_ , and trusted him to take good care of it, to not abuse this power.

Stiles didn’t care that it might just be some weird kink that Peter was into. _He_ was the only one that got to do this. Not just because Peter let him – because he _asked_ him to.

He breathed in deeply, then started squeezing, gentle at first, then like before steadily increasing pressure.

He studied his face intensely, looking for signs that indicated whether he should release him yet, extremely aware of the way Peter’s pulse thumped against his fingertips.

Not yet…

Then Peter’s eyes shot open, flickering a cold blue.

Stiles held onto him for a fraction of a second longer, knowing that now would be the time to let go.

Yet instead he dragged him towards him, kissing him roughly, a little surprised that Peter still somehow managed to reciprocate.

When he did let go of him Peter’s eyes were still locked onto his, though perhaps a little more focused than before. He didn’t waste time in regaining his breath when a hand reached out and grabbed the hair at the back of Stiles’ head, pulling him forward until their foreheads rested together.

“Quick learner, are we, Stiles?” he panted, a glint in his eyes that made the smirk on his face look decidedly dangerous.

Stiles might’ve felt that the situation was a little dangerous if he hadn’t been there before. The pulling on his hair was just short of being painful, and he knew that it wasn’t meant to hurt him. No, this wasn’t going to be a punishment – this was a reward.

The way Peter pushed him back down onto the mattress and almost tore off his clothes certainly confirmed that.

Stiles’d been allowed control for a little while, and he’d cherished it; now Peter was taking it back, and Stiles was more than glad to let him.

At the end of the night Peter wasn’t the only one who’d been left breathless.


End file.
